


Went Horribly Wrong

by virophobia



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Not really dd x 01 but its kinda there, This is something all right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 11:07:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virophobia/pseuds/virophobia
Summary: Itchy finds something while searching in Diamonds droogs room.





	Went Horribly Wrong

This was a terrible mistake, but then again, Itchy was always good at making those. 

He is currently at the Midnight Crews mansion _(‘why would they even need a mansion if they only have 4 members? Complete bullshit that’s why’),_ in one of the most intimidating members rooms, Diamonds Droog’s room. 

He never liked the member, and he definitely doesn’t like his room either. The way how everything is in perfect order, no clocks, all black and white. It looks like the perfect room of a man who is the sworn enemy of The Felt. 

His job here is to find all of the weapons in the carapaces home and a) steal them or b) trash them. And b is looking to be the better option. 

So when Itchy finds an old newspaper on the nightstand of a man who normally keeps all of his backup tuxedos perfectly clean, he finds it strange. 

Very strange. 

Looking around the room to check to see if he’ll have an arm chopped off or a switchblade to his back if he picks this up, the coast seems clear. He picks it up. Some grey literature gracefully falls out. 

He looks down, gazes upon it with horror and awe. It’s… It’s…! 

Blam! Blam! Blam! 

The familiar noise of gunshots, while muffled behind the door, are heard. Shit! How’d they know already!? 

He quickly grabs the unknown papers, knowing that whatever they are, it's obviously hidden and it must be important information to blackmail him and his crew. 

As he’s racing to get out of the room, papers in hand. His face becomes an acquaintance to the opening door. 

The papers fly as Itchy falls down to the ground with a dull thunk, his reaction time wasn’t always the keenest.

His eyes fall over to the grey text that gently lands beside him, then widen as a black shoe walks over it and a cue stick is hovering over his head.

Itchy looks up and sees the face of the owner of the newspaper, the owner of this room, Diamonds Droog. 

Droog hesitates for a second, glancing at the paper. The only emotion shown on his face is his eyes widening in surprise, then narrowing in anger. 

Just then, in one swift motion, the cue stick gets raised in the air.

“Shit!” 

Itchy rolls out of the way as the cue stick slams against the hardwood floor. He’s scrambling to get up on his feet and to get away from the member that wants to bash his head in. He manages to get up in time before another swing by the cue stick passes over his head. 

_“How the hell do I get out of this room?”_

Itchy thinks. He can’t go out of the door, he heard gunshots there, and Stitch got angry at him last time for having more than a few bullet holes in him. So the only other option is…

The loud crash of the lamp beside him being broken breaks Itchy out of his thoughts. 

“Fuck!” Itchy yells, he quickly races to the other side of the room to get away from the cue stick, but then he remembers.

The window! 

His shoes screech as he scrambles to turn back and..! 

He’s face to face with a gun, a revolver to be exact. And the man holding that revolver is none other than the man that wanted to murder him a few seconds ago.

Frozen with fear, Itchy stands still and Droog moves over to whisper in his ear; a simple intimidation tactic used multiple times by the Midnight Crew member, and it brings chills down Itchy’s spine every time. 

“I could hear every word you were thinking. Your internal monologue is, quite loud.”

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of Itchy’s face.

“Really? I never would have noticed, that it was so loud I mean,” he manages to stammer out. 

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he mumbles as he adjusts himself so that he’s face to face with his enemy. 

He inches the revolver closer to the center of his forehead. 

“Oh fu-Wait!” He squeezes his eyes shut and raises his hands up, Droog falters. Itchy opens one eye to see if he’s listening, he is.

“I have an offer.” 

Itchy hesitates, opening the other eye.

Droog presses the barrel of the gun up to his forehead. 

“Wait wait wait! You didn’t hear my offer yet!” 

“I’m impatient.” he says, his calm face ever so showing the signs of irritation. 

“Clearly.”

He clicks the safety off. 

Itchy yelps.

“Okay! Okay! Instead of you killing me I’ll forget what happened to your weird newspapers and you let me free?” He blurts out. 

Droog pauses for a second, processing what the yellow themed felt member said. One minute passes, then two minutes.

Just as he’s about to speak, Itchy kicks him in the knees, he loses his balance and falls; his head hitting the floor with a dull thud. 

He groans as his head starts to ache, ignoring the green man in favour of his head.

Itchy mockingly laughs at his pain as he disappears and a flash of yellow zips and zooms around the room for some time. Then Itchy proceeds to leap out of the window before saying, 

“see you later Droog!” 

And that’s the last thing the Midnight Crew member hears before he dozes off. 

He wakes up to the pain of having a bull penis cane whacked on his head by none other than Clubs Deuce. Just as the cane lowers for another wack, he grabs it, stands up, and gives his fellow member a menacing glare. Deuce gets the hint and runs away, but not before taking a glance at the top of his head and snickering. 

He rubs his wound and wonders what that was all about, he scans the room, still messy as usual, but… Wait. 

Oh no. 

He looks in his drawers, his cabinets, his closets, his secret drawers and cabinets and closets, then his super-secret drawers and cabinets and closets. Nothing. Absolutely nothing containing his newspapers. By now the side of his head is throbbing with the added stress upon it.

Oh No. 

He opens the last closet and turns to look at his fancy door mirror, his hat’s been replaced with a rounder, more yellow hat with a number one in the middle of it. 

Oh NO. 

He takes the hat off to reveal a single piece of grey paper in it, he picks it up and notices it’s a single page from the latest publication of The Grey Ladies, but this time, every single picture has been crudely drawn on with red marker to show Itchy’s face and body instead of the ladies. 

He looks in the mirror yet again, he feels something, he doesn’t know if it’s the head pain or not but he feels something… Strange. 

He crumples the paper.

“Shit.”


End file.
